Sculpture

I've arrived to the day of trepidation and embodied dread,
It shall all finally come down to mere words spoken and said,
If I am now a sculpture whose art was drained and fatefully bled,
Then I am now one that portrays the precise stillness it takes to be dead.

Yet, a pulse, inside this sculpture strives to chaotically beat,
This pulse is of metaphoric substance, thus meaning is concrete,
But how can this one pulse deem a sculpture to be whole and incomplete?
When only of it, does this sculpture seem entirely independent and discrete.

Maybe I am no better a sculpture than I am alive,
Take this pen, and rewrite how I shall come to revive,
Plot how it is... how I struggle with all that which you contrive,
And when all is over, just leave a sculpture of how I came to survive.

Clover

It's all finally quiet...
For too long... you've battled this riot...

But it's all over...
And your prize is... this common clover...

Emptiness left and right...
Was it worth such a passionate fight?

What a crying shame...
Had you known the end... to this crying game...

I think maybe now...
You shall choose to disavow...

But don't lose this clover...
Lest you forget... that it is... all over...

If there's one thing you've found...
Buried deep within harmonic sound...

Should you choose to disown...
That's fine... just... leave it alone...

Because... at the end of the day...
Our feelings convey... they crash and display...

They decay... long after they delay to portray...
They lead us astray... they hurt... hurt and betray...

It doesn't matter...
These words will soon fall... and scatter...

You will forget...
Light turned silhouette...

The one thing I need you to remember...
Long... long after the end of December...

Is this clover...
Because its finally... finally all over...

Conviction

The freedom within living in perfect consistence,
Questions this peculiarly strained twofold of an existence,
A world in which I can dance to perfect persistence,
And another in which I can perform to a twofold resistance.

Rivers of asphalt form the pathways of my convictions,
Tell me, son of man, were these not your initiate predictions?
Am I to remain uncorrupted by these consequent moral afflictions?
And yet... we are only as real as these condescending words and fictions.

I cannot be anymore than I already believe,
I am the embodiment of every meaning I've come to perceive,
I shall die in a time when lies can no longer conceive,
I shall die in a time when truth, instead, is destined to deceive.

Anomaly

There is not a more dark and mysterious place,
No way out, and yet I find comfort in your beautiful face,
My chest feels tight, my breathing takes not a steady pace,
And yet, here I am... breathing your beauty to my steady embrace.

No one knows that you and I are here,
No one knows what you and I can hear,
While my surroundings instill my being with pure fear,
All is unseen, and yet seeing you makes it all too clear.

Paralyzed before an anomaly of a duplex domain,
There is but only one absolute that I can come to explain,
I am of tears and coping, all so seemingly mundane,
You are of love and hoping, all so undeniably arcane.

Little by little, demons and angels gather round,
They do not speak a word, they do not make a sound,
Awed in silence at the confusing sight that they had found,
Amazed at a paradox of forces by which you and I are bound.

Dimension

My mind speaks of specular infinity,
But it knows nothing of definite inevitability,
My heart speaks of secular affinity,
But it knows nothing of definite divinity.

My surroundings fall perfectly into place,
A select dimension to fit an imperfect brace,
In the midst of a disorderly perfect space,
I am the one imperfect being that I wish to erase.

I am certain of nothing except that I am filled with doubt,
After all, I was indeed the liquid born of sheer drought,
Should I choose purpose, what should you be about?
Flickering lights choose persistence... as they fade and die out.

The culling begins, and to none shall it avail,
Where will you and I be... when they speak of our tale?

Evanescent

I reside beneath you... yet I fail to see how,
You paint over the past truths... with one lie from now,
I stand beside you... and I take yet another vow,
You watch observantly, raising yet another brow.

Will you not release... thrust me into a sanctuary for mortal peace?
Will you not cease... my perishing through immortal decay and decrease?

In my silence... lies the evanescent beauty of a given sound,
Cry your tears from the sky... and I shall drink them from the ground,
So very lost without you... and in your absence I am profound,
A king of all that is miserable... miserable as a king uncrowned.

Will you not reveal... that I have nothing left for you to steal?
Will you not conceal... that I have nothing left in me to feel?

I hold so many questions... you always give the same answer...
This is your theater... and I am your perfectly puppeteered dancer...
What makes this work? What makes you my everlasting cancer?
Help me... these words are the high to my paralleling trancer.

Will you not take... one of the many sentences that I make...
Will you not break... one of the many meanings that I rake....

Bring me your troubles... let me take your pain,
Maybe such is my fate... am I so destined in vain?
Another flame... forming throughout my inside plain,
Inextinguishable... only fueled by my outside teary rain.

Hollow

At last, in me, one half of whatever seems purely hollow,
Without question, I am your sin and I shall gladly follow.

To no end, to the four corners of each square,
Yet, it is all just too real... it is all just too unfair.

I would throw you away... or burn you in cold flames,
But you are not real... you are not bound by my names.

Shhh! Listen... can you not hear the frequencies of pain?
No?... But this is where they belong! This is their domain!

Never let go... because I am here... at your very side,
Never let go... because I am your friend... or so I've tried.

At last, in me, one half of whatever seems purely hollow,
The other, poisoned love so hard to resist, so easy to swallow.

Drained

The world is spinning... I can only imagine how fast,
Do I oppose... and question the future with my past?
Red skies befall a blue ocean... and I cannot see the contrast,
Why can't I find you... when this world is only so damn vast?

Yet, I stand here, out in your open space,
Holding on to the tears running down my happy face,
Am I but the only sour in all the sweet you taste?
Am I but the only shadow in every dream you've chased?

Lay here, in this silent wreckage of an endless pain,
It seems as though I am the weakest link in your endless chain,
I shall lay beside you, and we shall pray for the fall of rain,
To guide us and flow together... in a river headed for the drain.